Man or Spirit?
by Wilderness Rose
Summary: Dean romance: Between getting involved with an ex convict, an illegal alien, and kidnapping a girl patient from the ER, Dean gets a lot more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**_12:05 am… _**

It was a dark and stormy night. The nonstop rain and the remote sound of thunder broke the dull silence of the night, making the murky surroundings seem even more ominous, if that was even possible. A dense patchwork of trees, dry brush and overgrown grass surrounded a broken down "road" that led to the only house in sight for miles. The house was a two story dwelling that had seen better days. The originally lustrous white paint had gradually turned into an ugly shade of dirty yellow over the years, and the few remaining windows were boarded up and lined with cobwebs, giving the abode a surreal and ghostly appearance.

With the exception of a lone car—a '67 Chevy impala to be exact—which had been parked nearby for the last hour or so, the seemingly abandoned house appeared to be the sole sign of life in the near vicinity. A young man sitting inside the already mentioned impala squinted and leaned forward slightly shifting into a different position in his car, as he tried to get a better look at the old and battered house directly in front of him. Apparently around his mid twenties, he was quite handsome with his expressive hazel green eyes and spiked dirty blonde hair. His gaze wandered from the house to the road, his right hand wandering slowly over the steering wheel as he distractedly drummed his fingers to some random tune.

The young man's attention was suddenly diverted back to the house, however, as the front door creaked unexpectedly. A man—probably around his late forties— walked out into the chilly night, taking no notice of the foul weather. He walked stealthily to the left side of the house and removed a pile of branches that lay in a disorganized heap, only to reveal a large piece of canvas underneath. As the man methodically removed the canvas, a small car with a rusted frame was left to view. In a matter of minutes, the unknown stranger had inserted the keys into the ignition and driven off into the bumpy and broken down road.

As soon as the older man's car was out of sight, the young man exited his car swiftly and headed to the trunk of his car. Opening it, he took out a shotgun, loaded it deftly with salt bullets, and grabbed a razor sharp knife that curved lethally at the tip. With a smirk, he carefully shut the trunk and patted it lovingly.

"Be back in a minute, Baby. I'll be done with this bitch of a spirit before you know it." He purred to the car.

The rusty hinges of the door easily gave way as he inched his way into the tattered down house. Raising his gun with both hands to shoulder level, his eyes quickly scanned the room, as his muscles tensed, ready for action. Not finding anything on the first floor, he was preparing to head to the second floor, when his ears caught the sound of a low moan. It was then he spotted a door along the side of the stairway. Opening it, he saw a short succession of steps that led to a dimly lighted cellar. In the blink of an eye he had reached the bottom of the steps and the sight that caught his eyes made him sick to the stomach. Two semi naked women were strapped forcibly to separate beams with their wrists high above their heads. The remnants of their clothes were in tatters, and their bodies were badly bruised and bloodied. As he approached the first woman, he gently lifted her head with his right hand, alertly clutching the gun with his left hand. Her eyes gazed unresponsively into the distance and her pale face seemed drained of all emotion.

"Dead." He sighed to himself. He held on to her face for a few more seconds as he sadly took in her appearance. The long streak of crimson that fell across her cheek from the gash on her brow contrasted sharply with her deathlike pallor, and her raven black hair was matted with blood. He felt his blood boil as he realized she was such a young thing—she barely looked over 20.

"Oh thank God…please, help us-" a voice rasped out from behind him.

The man's attention was immediately turned to the other woman, as he realized that she was still alive. She looked slightly older than the first woman, and he guessed she was in her early thirties. Putting down the gun, he took out his knife as he bent over the second woman, trying to cut the bonds that held her as soon as possible.

"Hey…don't worry, it'll all be over in a minute." He whispered reassuringly.

"Oh my God, hurry…that man is insane…He keeps bringing them in and you have no idea what he does…he just stands there and watches us die little by little…"she rambled on incoherently, obviously in a state of hysterics.

Suddenly she shrieked, and before he could grab hold of the gun, he was roughly grabbed from behind by the collar of his jacket and knocked down by a well directed punch in the jaw. He shook his head and tried to get up, but the other contestant proved to be quicker than him as he dealt him a brutal kick to his groin, succeeded by a second one to his lower stomach.

"SON OF A BITCH!" he yelled to the man who he now recognized as being the one that had left the house earlier, as he helplessly clutched his stomach and tried to block the pain in an effort to reach for the gun that lay only a few feet away from him.

Seeing the blond youth head for the gun, the older man instinctively kicked it out of his reach, making the gun slide to the other side of the room, well beyond their reach. The woman began to sob and shriek uncontrollably as both men lunged at each other like enraged animals. Despite the fact that the younger had the energy and vitality of youth on his side, the older man was heavier set, making it harder for the slim youth to make much of headway. Pinning the youth to the floor and holding him in a vice like grip around his neck, the young man breathed hard as he slowly managed to slip his hands in between the other man's arms, and thus breaking his hold on him. In less time than it takes to tell the story, the younger man had dealt several punches to the man on top of him, finally making him fall to the side panting. Taking this opportunity to grab his gun, the young man had barely had time to cock it and aim when he was interrupted by a deep voice.

"I wouldn't if I were you," the older man said in a deceptively calm voice. The younger man turned, only to see the older man brandish the knife against the woman's throat. He smiled and caressed the woman's cheek in a sickening way that made her shiver as she struggled to choke back her sobs.

"Look, why don't you leave her out of this? Just let her go and—"

"—and what? You don't think I'd be stupid enough to let her go just like that? As far as I'm concerned, she's my ticket outta here."

"Yeah, it figures…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means it figures you wouldn't have the balls to handle this without help." The youth smirked as he saw the older man flinch in repressed anger. "Well, I guess it's not your fault that you spirits are such bastard cowards."

"Huh? Spirits?? ...what the hell are you talking about?!"

"This." He said as he suddenly took aim and shot at the man, hitting him in the shoulder. Expecting him to vanish, the youth stared in shock as the supposed "spirit" simply dropped the knife and clutched in pain where the bullet had grazed his shoulder.

_ What the hell? _He thought. _Since when do salt bullets only wound spirits?!? Isn't he supposed to vanish into thin air or something!? _

Still in shock, everything seemed to go in slow motion the wounded man took this opportunity to grab the knife. He watched as the man slit the woman's throat, and saw her head snap forward as blood spurted from her neck. Before the youth could fully register the man's next move, the man grabbed a nearby crate and flung it at his head.

As his fingers somehow lost their grip on his gun, the last thing he remembered was falling to his knees and involuntarily watching his gun fall slowly to the ground before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_**1:33 am…**_

He awoke with a start and scrambled to his feet. Suddenly feeling dizzy, he raised his hand to his head with his eyes still closed as he tried to remember where he was. He opened his eyes slowly and felt sick to the stomach at the stench of blood which permeated the room. As his gaze wandered to the two women's bodies which were still tied to the beams, he groaned as the events of that night came back to him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**One week ago…**_

Dean was driving along the highway as he slipped a cassette tape into his car. A few seconds later, the sound of "Metallica" filled the car, as he drummed his fingers to the music on his steering wheel. It was around noon, and he had just had a late breakfast. He drove listlessly, as his mind wandered, and his brows furrowed like they had a habit of doing when something was worrying him. He was thinking of Sam and how long it had been since they had actually seen each other. _Two…maybe three years already? _

Over two years ago, Sam and their father had had a hell of a fight about their lives as hunters. Sam was fed up with moving around and never having a home to call their own and had decided that that was not the life he wanted to lead. He had decided to enter law school and informed his father of that decision. The result of the ensuing fight had been that John Winchester had told his son that he could leave whenever he wanted to—the door was wide open.

Since then, Sam had been living the college life and Dean and John Winchester had kept up the "family business"— hunting. Although Dean usually hunted with his father, John Winchester had drifted apart of late, sending Dean on hunts of his own. Dean had just finished up a case in Tucson, Arizona, and was now making his way to Junction, Texas, where he was supposed to meet up with his father. _Haven't seen Dad in over two weeks…it'll be nice to get back together again._

His reverie was interrupted abruptly by the ringing of his cell phone. He flipped it open lazily to look at the caller ID. When the name "DAD" appeared on the screen, he immediately turned off the music and cleared his throat in anticipation.

"Dad?"

"_Son? I have a case I want you to work on," c_ame the no nonsense voice over the phone.

"Sure thing. What are we looking at here?"

"_Well, actually not 'us'…more like you. Something came up…a new case…and I need to check it out. But there is this other case that I need you to work on."_

Dean tried to swallow the disappointment he felt after hearing that statement. "You're saying you're going off on another case by yourself again?"

"_That's about the size of it. Look, I know I said we'd meet at Texas, but this thing I'm working on? I gotta do it alone."_

"Common' Dad!" he wheedled. "It's like you're trying to get rid of me or something!"

"_Son, I know how it sounds like and I'm sorry…I really am…but you're just gonna have to trust me on this,"_ John said gently. "_Now I need you to work on this case while I'm gone…you got something to write on?" _he resumed in his business tone.

Taking a notepad out of his glove compartment, Dean sighed, knowing it was no use. John Winchester never disclosed information until he was ready to do so, no matter how much you pushed him. He could almost hear his father's voice in his head telling him to "suck it up…Winchesters didn't complain".

Dean listened attentively and took notes as he listened to his father explain the case. It seemed that there had been a few disappearances in southern Texas. Over the period of the last six months, several women had disappeared leaving no trace behind—almost like they had disappeared into thin air. So far, the only connection John had found between the victims was that they were all seemingly single women on their own, and that they had disappeared one by one within a period of exactly two weeks between each other.

"Wait a minute…how do we know it isn't just some sort of psycho on the loose?" put in Dean.

"_Ever hear of Jack Tripper?" _

"You mean that bastard with a track record of multiple homicides and rapes? Mostly known for his preference for young Latino women," he snorted sarcastically.

"_Yep."_

"Well, last I heard, he was rotting in prison with a 100 plus years conviction on his sorry ass."

"_He __**was**__." _

"Come again?"

"_My source says that someone actually SAW the man…or at least something that looked a hell of a lot just like him…over two weeks ago in a parking lot somewhere around Laredo, getting into his car with a woman slung over his shoulder. She wouldn't give any more details, no matter how much I pushed, but she swears it was him."_

"So what? The son of a bitch busted out of jail and is going back into business." He squinted as the sun began to bother him. "Still doesn't sound like our kind of job…"

"_Rumor has it he got killed in a cell fight about 6 months ago. Also…it seems that at least two of the women abducted were actually top witnesses against him."_

"Holy crap! So we're talking about a really pissed off vengeful spirit here?"

"_Could be…that's what you're gonna find out. Any questions?"_

"Uh, not really…no wait…so…where do I catch up with you after this case?" asked Dean as calmly as he could, trying not to sound too eager.

"_I'll call you when I'm done here,"_ John answered vaguely. Hearing Dean take in a sharp intake of breath, John added as lightly as he could, "_Look...this case I'm working on? It might take a while…so don't worry if you don't hear from me in a couple of weeks."_

Dean clenched his jaw in frustration, knowing full well from experience that pleading was useless. "Fine…so…good luck I guess. Later."

"_Son?" _whispered John quickly.

"Yes, Sir?" responded Dean as he strained to hear his father who was talking barely above a whisper.

"_You take care of yourself." _

"Always," he smirked.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**9:00pm in local bar, Laredo Texas…**_

That conversation had been over a week ago. It had taken Dean a little over two days to get to Laredo, Texas, where the last kidnapping had taken place. After doing some digging here and there in odd places, he had finally ended up going to a local bar. The bar tender—a cute blonde with freckles on her nose—had been more than happy to share with the handsome stranger about all she knew. It seemed that someone or _something _that looked just like Jack Tripper had been seen a lot lately, mostly hanging around cheap bars for a few hours late at night.

"If you ask me, I don't really think it's him, ya know?" the girl gushed at Dean as she leaned a little closer.

"Oh? Why?" he responded before he took another swig at his beer.

"Well…" she whispered conspiratorially, "because he's dead!"

Dean pretended to choke on his beer as he blinked in "surprise".

She giggled, seeing she now had his full attention. Twirling a strand of hair in her fingers, as she grinned at him flirtatiously, she resumed, "He died in prison months ago! It was like some sort of cell fight I think…don't really remember …I think it was around Christmas—"

"Best time of the year to die," interrupted Dean sarcastically.

"—anyway, he's dead," she rambled on cheerfully, "So…like…all those people that say they've seen him? Well…it just doesn't sound right if you know get my drift."

"So…you're saying they made it up just to have something to talk about?" Dean asked innocently.

"No silly." She scanned the room as she suddenly grew serious. Biting her lip, her gaze fell back on Dean a few seconds later as if suddenly remembering he was still there. "I think it's his ghost."

"Ghost? Oh common'…you really believe in those things?"

"You don't?" she replied defensively.

"Babe, I gave up on ghosts around the same time as I did on the Tooth Fairy."

"Oh really? Well what about THIS, then...there's this guy I know called Eduardo. And HE says that he saw him no more than two days ago," she huffed.

"Where?"

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts," she said triumphantly.

"Never mind that now," he said hurriedly in a 'don't mess with me' tone. "Where exactly did he see him?"

"About two blocks from here near the 7Eleven. He saw him get in a car and drive off."

"Drive off where??"

"Oh I don't know! Who cares?"

"Listen sister, this is more serious than you think. Where can I contact what's-his-name? I need to ask him a few questions."

"Uh…You mean Eduardo?" she asked stupidly.

"No, I mean the Vienna Boy's Choir. Yeah, I'm talkin' about Eduardo."_ Lights are on, but nobody's home! _He thought to himself.

"Who do you think you are anyway!? A cop or something?"

With a smirk, Dean pulled out his fake FBI ID. "Special Agent Thomas Phelps at your service, ma'am."

"Ooooh my GOD…you're like a on a top secret mission or something right? So…like…that makes me like a material witness, right?" she squealed excitedly.

"No, that just makes you a normal day to day good outstanding citizen who is just doing her job by helping the authorities," he responded smoothly, trying to cover up his annoyance. _Blondes, _hemuttered to himself as he pulled on a fake smile.

"Oh, he works at 7Eleven…the one I told you about that's about two blocks from here? Remember? So like, his shift starts in about an hour, so you should be able to like talk to him there and…hey! Wait! Are you going already? I told you! His shift doesn't start until an hour," she wheedled petulantly as she saw him drop some change on the counter, put on his brown leather jacket and rise from the bar stool.

But Dean had already fled.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**9:55 pm outside the 7Eleven…**_

Dean had been waiting in front of the 7eleven for about an hour, waiting for the said "Eduardo" to start his shift. It had started raining and it was getting nastier by the minute. He sighed impatiently as his gaze roamed to his watch. _Five minutes till 10:00. Hope he's one time. _

About seven minutes later, a short Mexican guy crossed the street and entered the store. _Must be our man, _thought Dean as he braced his jacket against him to protect himself from the biting wind and rain. He locked the Impala's door and ran to the door. Once inside he shook the rain of his jacket and ran his hand over his face as he strode determinedly towards the cash register where the young Mexican guy was checking in for work. Dean waited for the other employee to check out before he accosted Eduardo.

"Eduardo?" asked Dean in a business like tone as he mentally cursed himself for not having asked the blonde for the guy's last name.

"_¿Si? ¿En qué le puedo servir Señor?"_ he responded cheerfully.

"Huh??"

"How may I help you?" he translated good-naturedly.

"Oh." Dean put on his official face and pulled out his fake FBI ID for the second time that night. "Special Agent Thomas Phelps. Have some questions I need to ask you."

"_¡Santa Virgencita del Cielo! ¡La migra!"_ squealed Eduardo in a not so masculine voice. (**Translation**: Sweet Mother Mary! An immigration officer! _**La migra**_** is Spanish slang for the immigration department.** )

"Can't you stick to one language, damnit?!"

"Señor, I know I don't have a legal residence yet, but I what can I do? My mother, she can't work no more! And my sister Carmela is too young to be working…I do my job, I work hard, I don't give anybody no trouble and I don't get drunk! _Mire que se lo juro por la Virgencita que nos acompaña desde el cielo,_" he pleaded with tears running down his cheeks, as he put his thumb against his other fingers and kissed it devoutly. (**Translation**: I swear to you by the Virgin Mary that watches over us from Heaven.)

Finally registering why the man was rambling on, Dean couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the man. After all…he knew what it was like to be constantly hiding from the law. Not that he knew what it was like being an illegal immigrant…but hey, having a couple of grave desecrations, mutilations, and murders on your record was no picnic.

"Hey, it's ok sir, see…I'm not going to deport you or anything like that. Uh…that's another department. As far as I'm concerned, my lips are sealed," Dean winked companionably at him.

Waiting a few seconds for Eduardo to recover, he resumed the "investigation".

"Ok, so I want you tell me anything you can remember about when you saw Jack Tripper two nights ago."

"How did you kno—"

"It's my job."

"Oh…ok…what exactly do you want to know?"

"Trust me…every detail counts."

"Oh…well, let me think a minute. Ok, so I was crossing the street heading to my job here—"

"What time was that?"

"Ten…that's my regular shift," he paused, staring with childlike curiosity at Dean, who was taking notes. Feeling important to be helping in what he supposed to be a secret investigation, he resumed with excitement. "Anyway, so I'm crossing the street, when all of a sudden I see this man that looks just like him walking only a few feet away, see? Then he stopped in front of a car, got in and drove away taking a left turn onto that back road."

"That's all?"

"Well…yes."

"Do you remember what kind of car it was?"

"Oh that…well..."he paused, scratching his head as he tried to remember. "Oh now I remember! It was a dark car…worn down Toyota Camry I think…a rusted and ugly thing."

"Any idea where he could have been heading maybe?" asked Dean hopefully. So far, Eduardo hadn't given him much new information that could help him.

"Well, he took a left turn onto that back road, like I say. I don't think it leads to anywhere really…it goes on for some fifteen, twenty minutes maybe, and hits the woods. Nobody lives back there, far as I know."

"No trailers, old houses, camping grounds…?"

"No…wait! Yes, there is this one old house somewhere back there. But nobody ever goes there anymore. The trail to it must be quite broken down by now. What? You think maybe Jack Tripper is still alive and he hide out there from the police?" he asked lowering his voice into a whisper.

"That's not for me to stay. Now Eduardo, as for you—"

"What, me? I just mind my own business and stay out of trouble. And if anyone ask me about this, I don't know what they are talking about. And I never even hear of Special Agent _Tomás_…ever."

"Eduardo, if only half the people I met in my job had as much sense as you have, it'd be a better world," smiled Dean from ear to ear.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Just like Eduardo had said, the back road had gone on for about fifteen minutes, until it reached dense woods. He stopped the car, trying to get a better view. The rain was falling nonstop, and the strong winds didn't exactly make driving easy. Not to mention the muddy road full of puddles. Finally spotting a bumpy trail with overgrown grass running over it, Dean decided this must the one Eduardo had told him about. After following it for about five minutes, an old decapitated house came into view. He turned off the engine, as he mulled over what his next course of action should be. First of all, it was practically pitch dark and there was no telling who or what was in there. There could be several hostages there, and there was no way in hell he would be able to pull out a one man rescue team for who knows how many people in this infernal weather.

_ I'll wait an hour or so, till the rain calms down some, then check this place out. Not much I can do till that happens. _

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_**Retake from 1:33 a.m…**_

_ I've been out for over an hour. Who knows where that bastard is by now. _Slowly, Dean inched towards the further end of the room to where his knife was, and involuntarily looked at the both women again. _I can't leave them here…the least I can do is give them a decent burial._

He kneeled by the second woman, the one who's throat had been slit, and carefully laid her down on the ground after he had cut her bonds. He took off his jacket and covered her reverently with it, till he could find a sheet or something to wrap the body in. Picking up his knife once more, he turned to the other woman to cut her bonds too. He laid her on the floor beside the other woman and was about to take off his checked shirt to cover her face too when something caught his eye. He froze as he saw a single tear slowly make its way down her cheek onto her ear.

"I can't believe it…she's still alive," choked out Dean.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Here goes the next chapter! I had some fun with this, and hope you do too. :)**_

_**

* * *

**_

After burying the older woman, Dean had wrapped the younger girl in his jacket and laid her on the back seat of the car. The rain had finally stopped, and Dean was whizzing through as fast as muddied wheels would allow him with a total disregard for stop lights or traffic regulations as his eyes scanned eagerly for any sign of a medical facility. Fortunately, there was no traffic to battle through—apparently few people bothered to block the highway at 2 am in the morning.

To his relief, he finally found a small medical center a few blocks away. His tires screeched to a halt as he recklessly parked in the first spot he found. Opening the back door, he gathered the slim woman in his arms and rushed into the front door of the hospital, roaring at the top of his voice.

"I need help NOW! Where the hell is a body supposed to go for medical attention in this damn place!"

Rolling her eyes at his language, a fat woman passing by with greasy looking hair pointed to a counter on the other side of the room where a sleepy looking middle aged clerk with outlandish spectacles was lazily sipping his coffee.

"Name?" he drawled out as he barely managed to suppressed a yawn.

"Huh?"

"Name…what's the patient's name?" asked the man impatiently as he jutted his chin towards the woman in his arms.

"Uh…"talking a quick look at her face, he realized she'd probably pass for a Mexican girl, with her black hair. "Mmm…Maria," he add-libbed as he blurted out the first Spanish name that came to his mind.

"Last name?"

_What the hell. _"Martinez." He said convincingly.

"Insurance company?"

"You got a Master's degree in Stupidity or something?! She's practically bleeding to death in my arms and you're standing there asking me stupid questions just to pass the time! Get her some freakin' medical attention and then ask me all the damn questions you feel like!!!" Dean spit out in frustration at the man's seeming indifference.

Seemingly unperturbed by his outburst, the clerk coolly replied, "What is your relation to the patient?"

"What the hell has that got to do with anything?"

"It's very simple. These are all routine questions that we need to answer so I can fill out a form before we admit the patient into the emergency room," he responded slowly as if speaking to a little child. He stopped to arrange his spectacles and resumed, "Now, where was I…oh yes…as I was saying…insurance company?"

"Uh…I…well…I don't know, really."

"I'm sorry but we are not allowed to admit patients unless we they have insurance. Hospital regulations." he answered in a monotone voice which sounded like a recording.

Dean was seriously contemplating laying the girl on the counter so he could reach over to punch the guy, when he was interrupted by a young medical student who had been listening to the exchange with sympathy. Sensing the flowing testosterone, she interrupted before Dean had a chance to make a scene and waved the clerk off with a warning glance.

"Sir? My name is Rosa Olvera and I think I know how we can help you," she interjected quickly with a slight Hispanic accent.

"You a doctor?" Dean asked gruffly as he suddenly turned on her.

"I'm a medical student, and I'm doing my service here in the ER section, so I'd be glad to help you get the medical attention you need."

"Well…finally _somebody_ with half a brain cell."

"Right this way sir," she said as she briskly led the way to the ER section.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It had been almost an hour since Dean had been sent to the waiting room, and he was going crazy, wondering if the girl was going to be all right or not. Sitting down doing nothing was not something he was good at. Hell, he needed to feel useful by DOING something…anything. Feeling responsible for the other woman's death, he determined to make it up by making sure the other girl was in good hands before he left. _I'm not leaving until I get her back home…or at least find out where her family is or something. _

"Sir?" Rosa asked gently.

Immediately snapping to attention, Dean stood up and fixed his eyes inquiringly on the medical student. "She gonna make it?" he asked bluntly.

"It looked worse than it actually was. Fortunately for her, she didn't have any major injuries, other than that cut on her forehead and some bad bruises and a slight case of anemia. We gave her a blood donation and they're cleaning up her wounds right now. She'll be out for a couple of hours, but with a good diet, and complete rest she should be back to normal in a week or so. However, I'm going to be fully honest with you Mr…"

"Dean…call me Dean."

"All right, Dean. As I was saying I'm going to be fully honest about her current situation; both medically and legally." Realizing he didn't fully understand she proceeded to explain.

She cleared her throat and lowered her voice to a whisper, "Are you related to the girl in any way?"

Not sure of where this was going, Dean felt unsure how to answer. "Uh…yeah…she's my …cousin."

Rosa narrowed her eyes at the obvious lie, and rolled her eyes.

"What??"

Taking a short intake of breath, she responded, "I need you trust me and tell me truth. You don't even know the girl, do you?" she accused him.

"Ok, fine…so I found her…some way from here and brought her to the first hospital I could find."

"You know, that sounds pretty far fetched. I highly doubt the cops would buy that story."

"What? You saying _**I **_did that to her? Oh yeah, makes perfect sense. So I pick up this random girl, use her for a punching bag just for fun, and then take the time to leisurely drop her off at a hospital, where incidentally, _anybody_ could identify me," he said with sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Look, all I'm saying is we got a clear case of assault and battery here, and the only 'witness' to it is some random guy who drops her off at the hospital," she paused as she looked him over from head to toe. "Not to mention that the mentioned guy is full of blood, mud, and is displaying a unique shade of purple on his jaw. I have to fill in a report about this."

"So? Fill it in…who's stopping you? Just make sure she gets the attention she needs." he growled.

"You don't get it do you? Are you even sure she's a legal citizen?" she finally asked in exasperation.

"How the hell do I know? And what's that got to do with anything?"

"When I fill in this report…because I have to…the cops are going to have to look it over. If they find out she's not a legal citizen, they'll keep her in the hospital room for a day or two, then deport her to her country before you can say 'Hakuna Matata'," she explained.

"How do you know she's not legal?"

"I'd be surprised if she was. Southern Texas and California are always swarming with illegal aliens. And like I said, they won't think twice about deporting her."

"You gotta be freakin' kidding me? Seriously? I mean, don't they even give her some time to catch up on her beauty sleep before they ship her off to Mexico or wherever it is she's from?"

"No. They'll send a social worker within 24 hours, and I'd be surprised if she was still here by tomorrow."

_Shit!_ Dean ran his hand through his hair, as he tried to think of what to do. "You sure sound awful easy about it, you know that?" he put in irritably in desperation.

"I'm only stating the facts. Once I finish this report, she doesn't have much of a chance," she replied without a trace of emotion on her face. "You want to see her now? She's in the last room at the end of the hallway. Pretty sure she's by herself."

Dean lifted an eyebrow questioningly at her. _She trying to tell me something?_

Pretending to scribble something on a notepad, Rosa turned her back slightly to him and said, "Like I said, one I finish this report she doesn't really have much time." She cleared her throat and quickly scanned the room before she continued. "We really are understaffed this season. Barely have enough people watching over all of the rooms. I wouldn't be surprised if that hallway where her room is was unsupervised. I have plenty of other patients to attend to you understand…can't keep my eye on everything."

Dean smirked, as he shook his head in disbelief. _Kidnapping a patient from the ER? That's pretty insane, even for me._

"You know, you probably don't know this, but just at the end of the hallway, if you turn right, there's a back entrance that leads to the street. I'm going to get some coffee now, so don't even think of leaving this room while my back is turned, you got it?" she ordered sternly while her eyes danced with mischief.

"Wouldn't dream of it."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Howdy folks! So here goes the next bit. Btw, in case you think the custody of "Jack Tripper" sounds a little too far fetched, it is actually based on a true life story. **_

_**About ten years ago, a random drug dealer was caught in Southern Mexico just like mentioned here—pure accident. He was driving in plain daylight (who knows where) and stupidly ran a red light. A patrol officer happened to be there, forcibly pulled him over, and asked for his driver's license. When the guy refused and tried to run away, the police officer forcibly detained him and brought him into custody, where after taking his finger prints, he was soon identified. Crazy I know...but hey, it happens! :)**_

_**Anywho, you'll need a song for this..."I'm with you" by Avril Lavigne.  
**_

_**

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**_

Dean sighed as he took a sip from his beer. In the last three hours he had had a hell of a time. After successfully wrapping up the girl with the hospital bed sheets and managing to carry her over to his car without being seen, he had driven for over two hours before daring to stop to look for a motel. _Better be safe than sorry…the farther away we are the better…for both of us. _

It was around six a.m. and Dean couldn't remember ever being this tired in his life. With a sigh, he turned on the TV at a low volume and began randomly switching channels, not really looking for anything in particular. Suddenly, something caught his attention on the CNN news. He moved his chair closer to the screen and listened attentively. He whistled in surprise as the news reporter began a detailed account of the recent custody of –of all people—Jack Tripper. It seemed that he had been pulled over by the police over an hour ago by the merest luck—in his hurry, he had sloppily crossed a red light, only to be pulled over forcefully. The police officer had identified him, and immediately taken him into custody. The news flash went on to say that although he was currently in the county jail, immediate arrangements were being made for his transfer to a maximum security prison.

_Well how do you like that…he was just a normal psycho…nothing supernatural about him. _Dean chuckled to himself as he remembered his shock when the man hadn't disintegrated when the salt bullet hit him. _I thought it wasn't our kind of job…guess I was right…_ He smirked to himself, as he imagined the fun he would have rubbing it in with his father, then suddenly turned serious as he remembered the girl on the bed. _I don't think she got any kick out of this. _He felt a shudder pass through his spine, as a flashback of the two tied up and bleeding women came back to him.

He gazed across the room to one the twin beds where he had laid the girl. _Hasn't stirred an inch. _He lifted his arm and grimaced as he took a sniff of his armpit. _Man I really need a shower! _Seeing she looked comfortable enough, he decided to take the chance to shower. He stood up slowly and gathered a change of clothes, careful not to make any sudden movements that would wake her up. Opening the door of the bathroom, he turned to give her one last glance and grinned despite himself. _She looks so peaceful like… _

Half an hour later, Dean reluctantly turned off the shower. The water had felt wonderfully refreshing, and it had felt good to wash of all the mud and blood from his fingernails. Stepping out the shower, he grabbed a towel and dried himself off leisurely, stopping to flex his muscles at the mirror while he grinned from ear to ear like a kid. _Looking good Winchester. _He combed his hair, shaved, and put on his clothes. With a sigh of self content, Dean figured all he needed was breakfast, and his happiness would be complete. Picking up his dirty clothes from the floor, he opened the door and stepped out into the room, only to freeze in place as he felt the barrel of a gun poked against his lower back.

Dean turned slightly, only to see the Mexican girl behind him, coolly brandishing _**HIS**_ gun against him.

"Please tell me you speak English."

"Don't move," she said evenly.

"Ok…so far so good…uh…You mind telling me what the problem is here, though?"

"Not at all…once you tell me who you are, and what I'm doing here in this Godforsaken motel with a complete stranger."

"Excuse me? I find you tied up in some psycho's place, rescue you, and this is the thanks I get? Man, my feelings are hurt."

"Funny."

"Only on days that end in 'y', babe."

For a response, she poked the gun harder against his back.

"Uh, ya know…I _really _wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because that just makes it a hell of a lot easier to do _this—"_ he said as he turned around with lightning speed and whipped the gun out her hands. She shrieked and lost her balance as she struggled to get take it back, only to send it flying across the room, where it fell against a corner well beyond their reach.

Not to be outdone, she turned suddenly and before Dean could register her next move, she had grabbed his empty beer by the neck of the bottle and slammed it against the table, sending chips of glass flying around the room. Without even blinking, she brandished her self made weapon and advanced two steps threateningly towards him shoving the jagged and uneven broken side towards Dean.

"I'm not in the mood for games! I want to know, and I want to know now…who the hell are you!?!" she shrieked hysterically at him, as she panted with exhaustion.

Dean looked with surprise and even slight admiration at the girl. _Kid's got spunk._

"Well?" she prodded. She had started shaking and the hospital nightgown that she was still wearing had slid slightly down her left shoulder. Dean couldn't help but notice that despite her bravado, she looked scared shitless. Her shaky legs looked like about to collapse any minute, and her lower lip quivered.

"Look, you're not yourself. You really need to lie down before you make yourself sick—"

"Don't give me that," she snapped. "Just answer the damn question."

"Don't you remember anything? That psycho had you tied up and I got you outta there…they cleaned you up at the hospital and I brought you here. Figured you could rest up while I tried to figure out where was the best place to take you."

"How conscientious of you…your parents must be very proud," she sniggered. Before Dean could respond to that, she moved suddenly to the other side of the room and pointed to a green duffle bag lying on the floor. "You thought I hadn't seen that?"

Realizing she was referring to his bag of equipment (aka…guns, knives and what not), Dean mentally kicked himself for having been careless enough to bring that in with him to the motel room. _Great…she's probably thinking I use that stuff to torture my victims or something. Shit!_ Deciding the only thing course of action left was to calm her down before she hurt either one of themselves, he tried to borrow some time talking, while he slowly inched his way towards her.

"Look, I know you're scared right now…but seriously? I can explain…really."

"The hell you can!"

"You really wanna hear the truth about why I lug around that stuff?"

"Yes," flatly.

"You're not gonna believe it," he warned.

"Try me."

"Ok, see, so my dad and me? We're hunters, but not as in the 'Bugs Bunny season' kind, but as in the paranormal kind. Trust me, there's things out there you can't explain, but they do exist. So my dad and me? We get rid of demons, spirits, and as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can."

Without batting an eyelid, she spit out, "You're insane."

"It's been said," he acknowledged with a shrug.

"I don't have to believe you," she said, but more to herself than to him. Dean held his breath as he realized she was trying to process what he had just said. She closed her eyes and put one of her hands to her head at the same time lowering her other hand with the bottle to her side.

"So…you're like ghost busters?"

"Well...yeah, kinda."

"I don't even know if I believe in ghosts or not." She shivered, and suddenly looked down at the hospital gown, fingering the material as if she had just noticed what she was wearing. "So you really got me out of there?"

"Yeah."

"I don't remember…much…how long have I been here with you?" she asked. She dropped the bottle and started crying. Putting her hands to her head, she started looking around her, as if trying to recognize her surroundings.

"Hey, it's ok…we just got here a couple of hours ago…" He walked to where she was and tentatively put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, you're sick, you really need some rest—"

He stopped, realizing she wasn't listening as she started to flip out and let out a sob. "I'm fine, I'm fine..." she pleaded, as she tried to step away from him.

Dean held her firmly yet gently, however, and said soothingly, "Hey, it's ok, I'm not gonna hurt you." He bent his head and felt something tear inside him as he looked into her tear brimmed eyes and quivering frame. Instinctively, he put an arm lightly over her protectively and pulled her to him. "It's ok kid…I gotcha."

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_**A little short I know...oh well... You like? If so, tell, me and I'll keep adding to it…**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Here goes the next bit...it's a bit longer, so enjoy! :)**_

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Half an hour later, Dean had finally convinced her to take a shower and clean up. When she objected pointing out she had no clothes, Dean had lent her some boxers and a T-shirt. He figured he could go to a diner and get some food while she cleaned up. _FOOD. Must get food. I'm starving, _thought Dean as he grimaced. _Talk about a nerve wracking day. _

He swung breezily into the first diner he found, bought two breakfasts, and drove back to the motel room. Closing the door with his foot while he balanced the food boxes in both hands, he called out cheerfully, "Breakfast is served _a la Deano_!" He placed the food on the table and rubbed his hands in anticipation as he began to serve it. "I have to warn ya…you're not out in one minute, I'm eating both breakfasts…I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."

He turned when the sound of the bathroom door screeching caught his ear. The girl was holding onto his boxers with one hand, obviously afraid of them falling off. As she hesitantly walked up to the table, Dean took a moment to fully take in her appearance for the first time. She was slim, yet curvaceous, that much he could tell, despite the baggy clothes. About 5.4 feet tall, Dean thought she looked tiny. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her raven black hair. If anything, Dean thought she was a little too pale, but then again, Dean couldn't tell if maybe that was just because she was sick. Her lips were full, and her sad grey eyes were set off with amazingly long, curly eyelashes. But what really set her apart from other girls he had seen was her hair—hair so black, it had a twinge of blue in it.

She sat down in the chair directly in front of him and hugged her arms to her chest, all the while looking at her toes. Obviously still a little intimidated by him, Dean could hardly believe she was the same girl who had fought like a tiger only minutes ago.

"Okay! Awkward…" Dean said more to himself than her, as he cleared his throat. "So…you got a name?"

Without looking up, she shrugged.

"Uh…ok…well anyway, I'm Dean."

"_Zitlalli," _she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Huh?"

"_Zitlalli," _sherepeated a little louder. "That's my name."

"Common'…seriously?" Dean lifted an eyebrow in exasperation. "Cause' there's no way in hell I could ever say that."

Her lips tugged ever so slightly, giving the faintest hint of a bemused smile. Looking up for the first time, she focused her eyes on him and repeated slowly and distinctly her name once more. "_Zit-la-lli. _Think of saying, SIT-LA-LEE._" _

"Sit—"he started and pursed his lips as he shook his head in defeat. "That some sort of foreign language?"

"It's an Indian name. Comes from the _nahuatl _tongue, and it means 'Star'," she explained.

"No kidding?" Dean lifted his eyebrows in genuine amazement. "Well, I knew it wasn't English," he added brightly.

She lifted a hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle a laugh. "It is a bit of a tongue twister," She admitted.

"Understatement of the year," Dean muttered as he stuffed his mouth with a rather large piece of sausage. "Oh…that's yours," he added as he moved a plate with French toast towards her. "Didn't know what to get you…hope that's ok."

"_¡Torrejas!_" she said brightly as she finally uncrossed her arms to reach for a fork hungrily.

"Uh, no…that's called French toast I think."

"That's the Spanish word for it," she explained as her ears turned bright pink in embarrassment. "I never really spoke English unless I needed too…I'm afraid Spanish comes more natural to me."

"Really? Hey, I don't mind…I mean…Speaking another language is pretty freakin' cool," he said nicely trying to put her at ease.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and tried to chew it down while still talking—Dean-like. "Stick to English around me though…I'd like to understand what you're saying."

She nodded and focused on her finishing her meal, apparently oblivious to his pathetic lack of table manners. She ate slowly, almost as if trying to get the most out of every bite. Dean couldn't help but wonder when was the last time she had had a decent meal. When she was finished, she continued to sit quietly, waiting for Dean to finish his meal. When he was done, she reached over to pick up his plate and began clearing the table. Once done, she bent her knees and began to pick up the pieces of glass that were still strewn around from when she had broken the bottle. Dean leaned down next to her and gently grabbed her elbow, pulling her up with him to a standing position.

"Hey, you don't have to do that. You should be resting…you're not strong enough yet."

She opened her mouth to protest but Dean put a hand on it to shush her gently. "No, you're not picking up this mess, and that's an order. You need your rest."

"No, you can't clean up my mess for me. Really, I'm fine," she protested.

"Nope, nothing doing," Dean said stubbornly_. _Without warning, he picked her up swiftly in his arms, making her squeal in surprise. Striding over to one of the twin beds, he laid her gently on it and proceeded to cover her with one of the blankets. "Doctor's orders."

Feeling both helpless and embarrassed, she protested and tried to sit up in bed.

"I so much as see your pretty ass move out of that bed, I'll strap you to it with my own bare hands," he warned sternly with his arms crossed over his chest.

She blinked in surprise. "Somehow I believe you."

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For the next four days, Dean had spent most of his time trying to not go insane wondering where his father was. He had given up trying to contact his Dad for the present moment, seeing as how no matter how many times he called, he kept getting his voicemail. But staying stuck in a motel with nothing to do was driving him insane, not to mention the added responsibility he felt to make sure Zitllali actually stayed in bed and got her strength back. The first two days had been relatively easy. The poor kid was so out of it, she basically spent the entire day sleeping. But by the third day, she was definitely feeling better, and Dean had to muster all his authority to make her stay in bed. Dean was no doctor, but if Doctor Rosa had said she needed a week, then that was good enough for him.

Although he would have died before admitting it, Dean actually welcomed having somebody to look over, seeing as it gave him something to do. Focusing on the girl helped keep his one track mind off his Dad, and wondering where the hell he could be. He made sure she ate all of her meals, and kept watch over her at night like a guard dog, checking her pulse every now and then when he thought she was asleep. Hell, she was so quiet most of the time, you could hardly tell she was there. The only time she had showed some sign of animation was on the third day when someone had knocked on the door. It had proven to be just the motel maid who was bringing a fresh supply of towels and soap, but to see Zitlalli, you would have thought it was the entire immigration department come to get her. Her face had turned two shades paler and she had broken out into a sweat, shivering uncontrollably as she ran into the bathroom and locked it from the inside. It had taken Dean a full hour to make her understand that there was no reason to be afraid of her being "found out", before he could convince her to get out of that bathroom. As Dean had put it, no immigration worker was about to go stalking every damn motel in Texas just to find one Mexican girl mentioned in a random hospital report.

After six days, however, Zitlalli finally began to show some definite sign of improvement. She had gotten some color back, and her eyes had lost some of that listless, haunted look which freaked Dean out. She felt indebted to Dean, and tried to show her appreciation in subtle ways. Like the time he had come back from a quick trip to the nearest bar, only to find her washing his laundry in the tub. Because no matter how much Dean talked himself hoarse about how much she needed her rest, she always kept trying to help him out in little ways when she thought he didn't notice. If she had at least shown some sign of spirit by arguing over the matter, maybe Dean would have felt better about it. After all, if you had enough strength in you to argue about something, then you _had_ to feel better…period. But she never contradicted him out loud, and always seemed to shrink under his eyes when he ordered her to get some rest, obviously still somewhat intimidated by him—which only made Dean feel worse. But other than that, she was real easy to 'manage', as Dean put it. If he told her to stay put till he got back from an errand, he never had to worry about her plaguing him with questions about 'when he would be back', or worse, 'where he was going'. She seemed to accept the truth about his 'family business' without question, and because of that, she saw no need to pester him with questions, figuring he knew his own business.

Sometimes at night, they would sit and chat awhile, with Dean doing most of the talking. He tried to make her laugh by telling her funny stories about growing up with Sammy, and sometimes tried to impress her telling her about his hunts with his Dad. Zitlalli always listened intently to him with genuine interest, somehow knowing when and how to make the right questions; thus unconsciously feeding his ego, making him feel like he was some sort of super hero.

Her very innocence and apparent vulnerability was a appeal in itself to Dean, who was more used to dealing with independent and even ruthless hunters on a daily basis—not to mention the occasional run in with what he referred to as the modern day woman, whose eyes would bore holes into him if he ever chanced to show some small forgotten sign of chivalry, like opening the door for a girl. To put it simply, she was the kind of person you could relax around and let down your guard, for the simple reason that her very vulnerability presented you no threat or competition to fear. What was funny was her bliss ignorance of the charm she possessed. Zitlalli had no idea of the gift she possessed of making men eat out of her hand.

Thus, a whole week breezed by rather quickly, and Dean felt unsure as to how or when to plan a move on. He had heard about a bizarre murder in Colorado, which could very well be a case to work on. The idea of actually working on a case again made his limbs feel pumped up with refreshed vigor. The only problem was Dean had no idea what he was supposed to do about Zitlalli. Truth be told, he hated to see her go. Yet at the same time, he couldn't figure out why he felt so attached to the kid…it wasn't like him to get attached easily. He told himself it as insane even considering bringing her along…she would probably just be in the way. And that was assuming she would _want _to go along with him and his crazy hunting life. What kind of life was that to offer a girl, anyway?

_What the hell has that woman done to me?_ Thought Dean to himself as he ran his left hand through his hair, a mannerism of his when he was worried or deep on thought. Dean reverie came to a stop when he realized he really needed to sort out his priorities and talk to Zitlalli. There was just no way out of it.

"Hey…SIT—"he paused, trying to remember how to pronounce her name. "SIT…SIT…SIT—"

"You make me feel like a puppy," she pouted. She was folding some of Dean's clothes that she had washed the night before—apparently Dean had conceded defeat. Hell, if it made her feel useful cleaning up after him, he wasn't going to argue.

"Huh?"

"Yeah…you keep saying 'sit', over and over again…like it was a command or something."

"Cute."

"Just sayin'."

"Yeah…and just trying to say your name makes me brake into a sweat."

"_ZIT-LA-LLI," _she repeated patiently for like the hundredth time that week, pronouncing each syllable with deliberate emphasis.

"_SIT…SIT…_awww, screw that! There's no way in hell I'm ever gonna get it. Why is it Spanish people always sound like they were named during a sneeze!?"

"Mexican," she corrected with a slight trace of annoyance.

"Mexican, Spanish…same thing."

"No, it's not. Spanish people are from Spain, whereas Mexicans are from Mexico. Why is it Americans never learn geography?" she retaliated.

"Hey, I don't need to learn geography…I am THE badass," he said loftily, as he gave the Dean Winchester trademark smirk.

"You're an ass alright," she muttered to herself.

"What was that?"

"Nothing…just talking to myself," she said innocently.

Dean pretended not to notice, and let it drop for the moment. Truth was, Dean couldn't help but feel a huge wave of relief wash over him to see the first display of spirit in her since that first night when she had brandished his gun. She was so quiet, Dean had no way to know if she was actually getting stronger or not. In fact, that was the problem…she was _too_ quiet.

Resting his arm on the motel table in the room, his eyes drifted over to where she sitting down on one of the beds folding clothes. He grinned to himself, as he realized that she had been wearing his clothes al throughout the week. His boxers were a tad large on her, to say nothing of his shirts, which looked humongous on her petite frame. Her wavy hair fell loosely down her back, due to that fact that she had no rubber band to pull it up, and her small feet were tucked daintily underneath her lap. Dean couldn't help but chuckle as the realization that he had just spent an entire week with a woman and never once tried to sleep with her suddenly dawned on him.

_I really need to get her some clothes, _Dean told himself guiltily, as he realized that she had never complained or even asked for something decent to wear. _Then again, my clothes look pretty damn good on her, _he thought smugly as he just sat back and enjoyed soaking in the view. Dean couldn't remember when had been the last time that he had enjoyed just looking at a woman without even touching her. There was something about just watching her move softly around the room that made him feel peaceful. It was a new sensation to him, and Dean found that he was completely enjoying it.

He frowned, as he also realized that he barely knew anything about her. He had no idea if she had a family, where she lived, or for that matter, how she had ended up tied up in that cellar where he had found her. She never talked or asked about how long he was planning on staying there, and it seemed to Dean like she was in no hurry to leave him. But if he was going to figure out what was best for the both of them, he was going to have to talk to her…and soon.

_Now or never, _he told himself, as he tried to get up his nerve for the second time to talk to her about the pressing matter in hand. He stood up reluctantly and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it just as suddenly. He smiled foolishly from ear to ear, as an idea suddenly popped into his mind. _Screw that…we can talk tomorrow…it's not like she's going anywhere. _With a smirk, he slipped on his brown leather jacket and walked to the door.

"Uh…I gotta go out for a sec…be back in a few!" he called out breezily, as he closed the door behind him.

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_**What do you think Dean has under his sleeve? Any ideas? Suggestions are welcome of course..lol ;)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Thanks_** _**for your encouraging words, Winchester gurl! ;)**_

_**Anyway, this next bit is a little bit more focused on our girl Zitlalli...I wanted you to get an idea of more or less what's going on in her head, so you can understand her better. You have to understand that just because she seemed quiet and spiritless with Dean at first, doesn't mean she doesn't have a wit of her own. She's been having fears of her own to deal with as well.  
**_

_**...we also get to see what it was Dean had up his sleeve! ;) **_

_**anywho...enjoy kiddos! :)  
**_

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It had been over an hour since Dean had randomly left Zitlalli to her own devices. Not that she minded much, really…she was getting used to his random disappearances. It had been a week since she had awoken in this motel with a complete stranger and having no memory whatsoever of how she had gotten there. At first she had paced frantically around the room trying desperately to remember something—hell, _anything. _That's when she had found the green duffle bag with Dean's odds and ends. Without hesitation, she had cocked the first gun she found inside it, and waited patiently outside the bathroom door. _This time, _she had promised herself, _she would be ready. _

Truth be told, Zitllali had originally expected to find Jack Tripper come out of that door. When to her surprise a complete stranger had come out of the bathroom, she had felt slightly taken aback. To say that she had been stunned would be an understatement. A wave of adrenaline had swept over her, engulfing her very being, however, giving her a source of strength unknown to her until that moment. The result had been a rage and defiance which had frightened even her.

When Dean had knocked the gun out of her hands, however, she had lost it. Images of what Jack Tripper had done to his victims had flashed through her memory, making her frantically search for a way to defend herself. _If I die, I'll die fighting. _Spotting the beer bottle on the table, she didn't stop to think twice to smash it against the table and brandish it as a weapon. She screamed, threatened, and practically cursed Dean—but he had shown no sign of fighting back. If anything, Dean had simply stood by calmly, talking to her and trying to soothe her fear. As the realization that Dean was indeed telling the truth dawned on her, she had felt her body go limp. No longer seeing him as a threat had made the adrenaline and defiance melt out of her system as suddenly as it had appeared. She had hazy memories of Dean pulling her to his chest and softly stroking her hair as he tried to soothe her, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what he had even said to her.

The next two days were rather blurry to her. She had the faint memory of waking up with sweat oozing out of every pore whenever a particularly frightening nightmare disturbed her sleep, and waiting for Dean to fall asleep before crying herself to sleep once more. She never told Dean what the agony of having nightmare after nightmare of those days in the cellar with the images of women dying before her very eyes was like. It was the fear of those nightmares which made her protest from staying in bed. Better to be up and about doing something than to have to deal with the horror of facing her fears in her dreams—alone.

But after the first three days, it had gotten better. Dean didn't make her stay in bed as much, and actually let her stay up with him late into the night, telling her the most bizarre stories about his family and what growing up as a hunter had been like. She lived for those moments when she could actually breath easily, and escape the all the pain inside, if only for a moment.

Zitlalli couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about Dean that soothed her troubled spirit. Maybe it was a combination of the quirky grin he got on his face whenever he looked at her and the protective way he watched over her. She couldn't help but smile inside when Dean kept watch over her late into the night, feeling her pulse every now and then just to make sure she was still alive and well. She knew he thought she was sleeping when he did that, and it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, having him watching over like that. It was the closest she had come to feeling safe in a long time.

And then there were the many faces of Dean that kept her continually guessing and trying to figure him out. One minute he was almost tender, then the next minute he seemed to be ashamed of showing so much feeling and made up for it by teasing the life out of her. One thing was for sure—life with Dean was never boring. Every minute had something to it, and his never ending energy almost made her dizzy at times, as she tried to match his energy and sometimes even occasional hyperactivity.

When it came down to it, Zitlalli was in no hurry to leave Dean's side.

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Zitlalli sat up from her spot on the bed when she heard the door's lock turn. Dean closed the door behind him with his foot as he strode towards the bed where Zitlalli was looking at him curiously. Without a word, Dean grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little too roughly to her feet directly in front of him. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly and her eyes fell on his left hand which was hidden behind his back. Dean took a quick intake of breath as he closed his eyes for a split second before opening them to look down into her soft grey eyes. _Oh God, those eyes, _Dean moaned within himself. Eyes that always had a trace of vulnerability which for some reason made shivers run up and down his spine.

"We need to talk…but there's something I want you to have first," he breathed hard. He slowly extracted his hand from behind his back, revealing a tight fist, but paused for a minute. His eyes trailed from his fist to her eyes, where he was momentarily lost. "Here."

With a thin smile, he opened one of her tiny hands and promptly deposited a flat rectangular object into it.

Zitlalli turned it around in her hands and frowned in confusion as she held it up towards Dean. "Uh…an ID card? What's that supposed to…huh…wait a minute—"she scanned it carefully and opened her mouth in surprise. "That's me!" She squealed in surprise, referring to the picture on the fake ID card. "Uh…Jennifer Lopez?!" She knit her brow in genuine bewilderment as her eyes fell on the name displayed on it.

"Look, as far as I'm concerned, I could care less about your legal status in this country. Unfortunately not everybody is as understanding as I am," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Where did you even take this picture?"

Dean grinned in embarrassment and stuffed both hands into his jean pockets. "Uh yeah…about that…ok, so I kinda swiped a pic of you with my cell one time when you weren't looking."

"Well that explains the idiotic face I'm wearing. But…'Jennifer Lopez'? Whatever happened to Zitlalli?"

"You freaking kidding me? I mean…does anyone even know how the hell that's spelled?"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Just because you can't spell doesn't mean nobody else can, Dean."

"Whatever, smart ass. If anything, you should be thanking me for trying to save your pretty little ass. Besides…nobody's going to buy you being a legal American citizen with a name like that."

"So 'borrowing' a prominent star's name was a better solution? Couldn't you think of a less conspicuous name?"

"Aw, keep your pants on. You think there's only one babe called 'Jennifer Lopez' in the entire universe? Besides, you two have a lot in common."

Zitlalli smiled despite herself. No matter what nonsense Dean came up with, you could never stay mad at him long. "Really…like what?" she asked as her eyes danced with mischief.

"You're both hot babes with even hotter asses," he stated the obvious, as he moved swiftly out of the way before she could smack him. "Uh wait…did I actually say that out loud? I meant to say you're both Latinas," he said innocently.

"Yeah right…nice come back. Still….Jennifer?" she asked out loud sounding out the new name, as if trying to decide if she liked it.

"Don't be so damn picky, woman. Besides…I can actually pronounce that name, which is a good enough reason in my book."

'Jennifer' laughed. She hadn't felt so happy in a long time. When Dean had first walked up to her, she had had no idea what he had up his sleeve, since he didn't really strike her as the romantic type to come up with some mushy getup. From what little she knew him, he striked her as more the no-nonsense protective, badass type. Apparently she was right…Dean's way of showing he cared was by being fiercely protective of you 24 hours a day nonstop, day in and day out.

Still holding on to her new ID, she suddenly closed the distance between them, leaving only a few inches between the both of them. She held her breath and bit her lip as their eyes locked.

"Dean?" she managed out in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" he huffed out as he felt his palms getting sweaty.

She shivered slightly, then very hesitantly raised a tiny paw to his face. Raising herself on her tippy toes, she brushed her lips ever so gently against his cheek for a brief, tender kiss, before impulsively pulling her arms around his waist for a hug.

"Thanks for caring," she whispered shyly as she borrowed her head into his shoulder.

Dean stiffened up slightly in surprise, stunned at her sudden display of affection.

"Sure," he replied uncomfortably, trying to sound as cool and collected as possible. _What's with the emo moment?_ thought Dean to himself as he very hesitantly responded to her hug by putting a light arm around her shoulders.

Dean was experiencing a whole new level of awkwardness previously unknown to him, when instead of rapidly pulling away from him, 'Jennifer' simply clung tighter to him. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to hurt her feelings by pulling her away from him, he continued to hold her with one arm, wracking his brain trying to figure out what exactly it was she was expecting from him. _I'm no good at this bonding crap…_

He paused, when he suddenly realized that her shoulders were shaking. _What the hell… _He grabbed her by the shoulders as he gently disengaged himself from her to look into her face, only to feel a queer lump rise to his throat when he spotted the trace of silent tears falling down her face.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. He gently wiped a tear with his left thumb and felt her tremble at his touch. "You ok?" he asked, and immediately felt like an idiot for asking such a stupid question.

"Yeah," she breathed out, her nose turning redder by the minute, as she obviously struggled to choke back all trace off emotion.

"Liar," Dean huffed out, as he pulled her roughly into his arms for a bear hug. Jennifer laughed nervously into the hug and gripped his waist tighter, as she felt his right arm encircle her small back while his left hand simultaneously reached for the back of her head and pulled it to his chest. Dean held her so tightly, he could feel the talisman he always wore between them —the one little Sammy had given him years ago. He rested his chin on the top of her forehead, and rocked both of their bodies back and forth slightly, moving to the rhythm of their breathing.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, then breathed out heavily as they both reluctantly pulled away from each other. Jennifer ran a hand across her eyes, quickly removing any last trace of tears and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Finally daring to look up at Dean, she was confused to see him smirking as he stared intently at her left cheek.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"That," he responded as he grabbed her by the shoulders from behind and spun her around so she could see her reflection on the dusty mirror close by. Jennifer tilted her face slightly to the right, then grinned as her eyes caught the reflection of a strange mark 'branded' onto her left cheek. Dean had held her so tight, that his talisman had momentarily left its trace imprinted on her cheek.

"Well what do you know…looks like I left my mark on you. Guess you're pretty much stuck with me now," Dean grinned arrogantly, obviously well pleased with himself.

"Looks like."

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_**Yay...so we actually get to see Dean's softer side...lol**_

_**Anyway, please rate and review folks...pretty please?? It's no fun writing unless I get some feedback about what I'm doing right (or wrong..lol) :)  
**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Howdy folks! Well,_** _**first off, thanks for all your kind words! :)**_

_**Anyway, this next chap is different...lol...it starts out slightly sad, yet romantic...then the last part escalates into a disagreement...Dean's and 'Jennifer's first fight!!! LOL I figured it was about time...love life isn't always mushy...lol**_

_**Anyway...for the FIRST part of the story, you need a song! "Better than me", by Hinder. You really should listen to the song...it's a real mood setter for the story. :)  
**_

* * *

Dean turned serious once more and ran his hand through his hair as he exhaled deeply.

"We need to talk," he said, as he sat down on a bed and patted a spot beside him, gesturing her to sit down next to him.

Jennifer walked over and sat down on the bed. "About…?"

"We need to decide where you…we…are going from here. I need to move on as soon as I find a new case."

"Don't you have a home somewhere? I mean…where do you live?"

"With a job like this you can't settle down. It just doesn't work that way."

"That must be hard for you…and your Dad," she added as an afterthought.

"We deal," he shrugged. "Anyway, the fact of the matter is, my Dad is still God knows where on a hunt, and I can't stay here any longer. I need to keep moving, find a new case to work on and…" his voice trailed off.

"—and you're trying to figure out what to do with me," she finished for him.

"Well…yeah." He looked at her and squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling the full weight of responsibility on his shoulders, as he saw her looking at him with child-like faith that he would make the best choice for both of them. _She wouldn't trust me half as much if she knew what I'm really like, deep down inside. _

"Look, you know what we do, and I've told you what our job is like. It's not pretty, and not something anyone could handle. We don't get payed, we don't get thanked, and we're always running away from the cops. A girl would have to be insane to wanna live like that. You don't want that for your life," he said sternly, wondering whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Since when is insanity a crime?" she asked lightly.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he answered harshly. "Why would you want to give up everything you ever had to live like that?"

"Oh, and I had so much before," she muttered sarcastically.

"At least you lead a normal life…it's not like this job was thrust upon you like with me. You can choose a different life and no one would blame you."

"Well, if by normal you mean watching behind my back 24 hours a day, wondering if an immigration worker will show up and deport us, then yeah…I really live the life."

"It's different now."

"How so?"

"You have an ID now," he explained in exasperation, starting to loose it.

"An ID that could easily be detected as forged any day. Common Dean…Why can't you see we're really not that different? We've both spent most of our lives running away from something. Only difference is that at least you were helping people…all I ever did was run from myself," she added softly.

"Hey…I don't want to hear you ever talk like that again, you got it? What we do now with what we got is all that matters anymore."

"Does that mean I can come with you?" she asked hopefully.

_What are you looking so happy about? If you had any idea what you were getting into there's no way in hell you would even think about coming with me. _Dean sighed. _Besides, you don't know how to shoot, hunt, anything. You'd be a walking target. _

Yet as much as reason told Dean that leaving her here was truly the best thing for both of them in the long end, he couldn't help but feel that there was nothing wrong with wanting to have a girl in his life. A girl he could love, protect, and watch over. A girl who actually seemed willing to accept him for what he was. Was it really so wrong to want to have someone else to share his insane lifestyle with?

_I can teach her to shoot and the basics. It's not like she'll be off hunting on her own. I'll always be there to take care of her and I'll be damned if I ever let anything hurt her. _

"You deserve much better than me," breathed Dean as he met her gaze. _Those eyes! They'll be the death of me yet. _

"Is that a yes?" she asked softly as she leaned slightly into his shoulder.

"I just can't help thinking you'll regret this," he smiled sadly. _I told myself I wouldn't miss her, but can't pretend I don't care about her anymore. I need her…I need her innocence to keep me from turning into some damn kind of obsessed shooting machine. I don't want to end up like Dad._

"I won't," she answered determinedly. Ever so gently, she reached over and placed her left hand on his cheek.

Dean looked at her, and just soaked her in. _You don't even know me. You have no idea how many people I've hurt…how many girls I've been with…how many things I've killed. _

'_She doesn't have to know', _said voice deep down inside._ 'You saved her. She wants to be with you…She doesn't have to know everything.'_

Dean closed his eyes and bent his head down, suddenly tired. Without another word, he let himself fall back onto the bed and pulled a hand over his eyes, forgetting for the moment that Jennifer was still there beside him. _You deserve so much better than me._

Dean's eyes abruptly popped right open when he suddenly felt the warmth of another body leaning lightly next to him. He turned his head, only to see Jennifer trying to settle down next to him on the already crowded twin bed.

"_Hazme campito."_

"Huh?"

"Scoot over, bonehead."

Dean obediently scooted over, making enough room for both of them.

"Uh..may I?" asked Jennifer hesitantly gesturing towards the crook in his left shoulder.

"Knock yourself out."

Taking that as a yes, she shyly laid her head on his shoulder, pressing her body against him, as she simultaneously rested her left hand on his heaving chest. Dean shifted her slightly onto him, so he could hug her with his left arm, and rested his chin on her head. Feeling some of her stray hairs tickling his nose, he moved them out of the way with his right hand, then traced her jaw line softly with his thumb.

They stayed there in each others hands, neither one feeling like talking, knowing that there really wasn't much to say. Both realized the risks involved…they didn't need to pretend that it was going to be easy, or that nothing could happen in the long run.

_This doesn't have to end, _thought Dean fiercely, _I…WE…can make it last. _

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Dean woke up, groggily conscience that something—or rather someone—was entwined in his arms. He opened his eyes, and saw Jennifer blissfully asleep in his arms. Dean smiled to himself. Who would have thought it? He had just spent an entire week with a girl, and they hadn't had sex. Hell, they hadn't even kissed yet. _Must be some kind of record, _Dean chuckled inwardly. Looking down at her, he couldn't help but feel that somehow, she just kinda seemed to belong there. She even seemed the right size for his arms.

Dean couldn't remember when had been the last time he had felt so damn good.

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Jennifer stirred, suddenly awake. She rubbed her eyes and tried to get up, but found she was stuck somehow. Something—or someone—seemed to have her waist caught in a vice like grip. Still half asleep, her first reaction was panic as she frantically worked to disengage herself.

"Hey…what's going on with you?" asked Dean curiously, as he felt her wriggling in his arms and caught the slight sound of a whimper.

Hearing his voice, she remembered where she was and she struggled to control her ragged breathing. Concerned, Dean flipped over, expertly laying her down on the bed face up, as he bent carefully over her.

"You're sick," Dean concluded, seeing how all the color was drained from her face. He reached over to feel her forehead but froze mid air when she pushed him aside.

"Don't touch me," she said with a tremor in her voice, as she abruptly got up and locked herself into the bathroom.

"Uh…," said Dean to himself with a frown. _Ok, random…what was that all about? _ He got up and leaned against the bathroom door, as he tried to channel his ears to catch up any noise from the inside. "You allright?"

"I'm fine." Jennifer slowly let herself drop to her knees and leaned against the bathroom wall, as she struggled to choke back her sobs. _Another nightmare…I can't take this anymore, _she thought in desperation.

"Uh…ok…so…I know I'm totally going to regret asking this, but…did I do something wrong?"

"NO! I'm fine…just…just go away!" she shrieked. _Why can't these dreams go away? I can't take it anymore…I just want them to go away so bad. _She hugged her knees to her chest and started crying hysterically.

"Uh…maybe-?"

"Just go outside or something...really…I'm fine," she wheezed.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. You're obviously sick," Dean retaliated stubbornly as he squared his jaw. Dean stepped back, as the door opened a crack. He softened a little when he say her red puffy eyes, but still stood his ground. "I'm not leaving."

"Go," she said flatly with her hand on the door knob.

Dean crossed his arms. "Make me."

"Fine." She put up both hands to close the door, but Dean was quicker then her, as he stuck one foot between the door and squeezed his shoulder inside between the door frame and the door itself.

"You know," he puffed out as Jennifer put up a good struggle to squeeze the life out of him, "We could do this the easy way."

For a response, she worked even harder to shove him away from the doorway.

"Damn it woman! Either you stop acting like a 2 year old brat and tell me what's going on, or else."

"Or else _what_?"

"Or else I just lay you right across my knee and give you good spanking."

"You wouldn't," she huffed in disbelief. She paused, then asked incredulously, "…would you?"

"Only one way to find out," he replied evenly.

Jennifer peered at him for a second. He had the same determined look in his face like the time he had put her in bed and dared her to get up on their first night together. When Dean got that look, you didn't mess with him.

"Fine," she said sulkily as she grudgingly opened the door and stepped outside.

"Mind telling me what that was all about?"

"Nothing…I'm fine."

Dean rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms in exasperation. "Are you always this bitchy?"

"Don't call me that!"

"I wouldn't if you didn't act like one!"

"I was not acting like a bitch! I just needed…some time…to myself."

"Uh huh…"

"I DID!"

"Whatever."

"I'm not asking you to believe me. All I'm asking is for some time alone to sort out a few things. So…excuse me." She crossed her arms and pushed past him as she opened the motel room door. Apparently oblivious to her lack of decent looking garments, she stepped outside and slammed the door behind her.

Dean let out a whistle and rubbed his neck with a grimace. "Hormones," he muttered to himself.

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_**Hope you enjoyed...as always, don't forget to rate an review! Pretty please!! lol **_

_**Thanks!! Have a good weekend! :)  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Here goes the next bit...it's a little short, but I think you'll enjoy it, seeing as how Dean and 'Jennifer' make up...lol**_

_**So that said...enjoy!  
**_

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"Ok…_now_ I'm pissed."

Without a second thought, he grabbed his favorite hunting knife—the one he always stuck in his ankle—loaded a gun, and marched outside to the Impala. His face was devoid of all emotion as he methodically inserted the keys in the ignition before backing out of the parking space and zooming out of the motel parking lot.

When Jennifer had closed the door behind her, his sixth sense had told him that she was in no state to go off by herself, but he had been too stubborn to go after her. _Winchesters don't beg. _ But that had been hours ago.

When she hadn't come back in an hour, Dean had started to fidget. _What the hell is she doing? _He had paced the room so many times, he was pretty sure he had worn out a pathway in the carpet. He sat down and had a beer as he distractedly turned on the television with a frown frozen onto his face. He randomly flipped through the channels, not really interested in any one in particular.

Two hours later, he glanced at his wristwatch. _Crap. _He got up and started leisurely cleaning his guns to pass the time.

Three hours later, Dean had already started to worry. Having already cleaned his guns, and having nothing else handy to do, he was getting irritated. _She better have one hell of an explanation. _

Four hours later, Dean had left the motel and was too busy cursing himself to remember that Winchesters didn't beg. _I never should have let her go off by herself. _Since then, he had spent all day running around in circles looking for her. The first stop had been to the next door supermarket. He marched to the first closed cash register he found and accosted the male cashier, a young cocky looking blond who was too busy organizing piles of change to pay any attention to him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh…excuse me…" The young man loftily turned around to look at him and raised an eyebrow in response. "You wouldn't have happened to see a girl about so high," he gestured up to his shoulder, "a little on the pale side, and with black hair would you?"

"Pal, you think we keep track of how many customers we get?"

"Uh…no…but…she would have stood out," he added hopefully.

"How? She have a third nostril or something?"

"No smartass…she…well, she was dressed kinda funny…boxers and big baggy shirt…no shoes."

"She your girlfriend?"

_Good question…I'm not exactly sure __**what**_ _we are._ "Uh…yeah."

The blond snickered. "You sure know how to pick them."

In the blink of an eye, the blond guy was sprawled on the floor and blinking in surprise as Dean shook his fist at him for emphasis. "That's _my girl _you're talking about…watch it."

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Ten minutes later, Dean was "escorted" out the supermarket by two policemen.

"Stay out of trouble kid," said the older one of the two. "Next time we won't be so nice."

"I've been kicked out of better places," Dean scowled. He dusted off some imaginary dust from his sleeves and walked back to his car.

Next on his list had been the local bars, Blockbuster, A.M. P.M., Goodwill, a playground nearby, and in the last resource, even the local bookstore. Time flew by and before Dean knew it, it was already nightfall—and there still wasn't any sign of her. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Worn out and having no clue where else to look for her, he grudgingly went back to the motel to think.

Once inside, he flopped down on the bed and put his hand to his forehead. Truth was he couldn't think of any other place to look for her, and the only thing he hadn't tried was calling the cops. But Dean sure as hell didn't consider that an option. He had been mulling about what to do next for about 5 minutes, when the door was unexpectedly opened with a creak. Dean's head flipped over to see Jennifer close the door behind her and lean timidly against the door.

"Where the hell were you, woman!?" demanded Dean gruffly as he bolted up from bed.

Jennifer caught her breath and looked up at him hesitantly before responding. "I—went to the chapel."

He walked up to where she was leaning against the door leaving only a few inches between the two of them. Jennifer was wheezing and looking none too good. Her already pale face had no color to speak of and her blue, chaffed lips looked stiff with cold.

"You're frozen stiff." Jennifer had her arms wrapped around each other and she was shivering. Dean slipped of his leather jacket and put it on her at the same time that he reached for her hands as he rubbed them with his own, in an effort to warm them up.

"It's a really little one…about two blocks from here," she said, as if that explained everything.

Dean looked at her. _Why didn't I think to look there? _ "What the hell were you doing there for the past 8 hours?!"

"I…well…it was the only quiet place where I could think of going. I needed some time to think and all…and nobody bothers you there. After a while, I kinda fell asleep and when I woke up it was dark outside." She paused. "You mad at me?" she asked nervously as she winced a little under his stern glare.

Dean shook his head and ran his hand through his eyes wearily. "Nah, not really."

"You look mad," she ventured with a tremor in her voice.

"I'm not mad…I…was worried." Dean let out his breath. "Woman, I've went to every damn corner in this damn town in the past five hours, not knowing if you were dead or alive. Damn it, woman, I could throttle you! That was stupid, you hear me! Just plain stupid!"

In exasperation, Dean had grabbed hold of her shoulders and had given her a good shake after each sentence for emphasis. His eyes were bloodshot, his nostrils flared, and his fingers dug deep into her shoulders, making her wince in pain. She shivered and whimpered in fright at this side of Dean that she had never seen before, her hands closed in fists against his chest. Seeing her fright, Dean shut his eyes and bent his head slightly, in an effort to control himself. When he opened his eyes to her face a few seconds later, the wild look in his eyes had been replaced by a haggard expression. Without a word, his fingers lost their vice like grip on her shoulders and slowly inched their way upwards to her face, his hands cupping both sides of her face.

"Don't you ever do that again to me," he breathed out, as his voice broke with emotion. Before Jennifer could respond, his lips crashed onto hers for one hell of a kiss, making her squeal in surprise. She wriggled and tried to shake him off, but Dean responded by deepening the kiss, as his arms simultaneously engulfed her small form, finding their way to the back of her head and her lower back. He pulled her as close to him as possible, making her finally relax as her body melt against him, moaning into the kiss.

* * *

_**OK!! So...what do you think?? Please rate and review and let me know what you think. **_

**_Thank you so much for all you're encouraging reviews so far! They completely made my day and motivate me to keep adding to this story. I actually have quite a few ideas in mind for this whole thing...and if anybody's wondering, yes, Sammy will be making an appereance evetually....KEY WORD: eventually! lol I need to further develop this story line and their "relationship" though, before Sammy boy can come into the picture. :)_**

**_Once, again...thanks again! :)  
_**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Enjoy kiddos! As always...thank you so much for your nice reviews..they inspire me to write even faster! lol :)**_

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It was a hot sticky day. Like the kind that follows a messy rainy day in Texas. Dean and Jennifer were out shopping—yes, shopping. Dean had finally decided on talking up a new case, and he had decided that if Jennifer was coming along, she would need some new clothes. Not that he minded her wearing his own, but he had to admit she needed real clothes—not to mention shoes.

It was noon, and the icky stickiness of the day was making Dean regret having tagged along with her on the shopping excursion. _Crap. Why didn't I just give her the credit card and wait for her in the motel or something? _They had been at Goodwill for the past hour or so, and as far as Dean could tell, they were no closer to being done now than they had been half an hour ago. Jennifer kept scanning through the clothes racks, holding one shirt against her after another, apparently excited about getting some normal clothes, making Dean shake his head at her child like excitement. Still, he had to give her credit that she hadn't made a single complaint about being seen in public with his baggy clothes—he had to admit she had been pretty cool about the whole thing.

"Man, I'm hot," Dean complained as he tugged at his sweaty shirt with a grimace.

"Isn't that a matter of opinion?" Jennifer put in wickedly.

Dean opened his mouth, only to shut it again abruptly when he couldn't come up with a single decent comeback. He turned his back to her as he faked sudden interest in a ridiculous pink polka shirt, pretending not to notice her girlish giggle.

"Aw, turn blue," he snapped, as her shoulders heaved with suppressed laughter. Really, messing with Dean was too easy.

"Oooh, look at this!" she squealed suddenly, her hands intent on pulling something free from the disorganized rack of clothes.

Dean turned around lazily, obviously not catching on to her excitement. With a goofy grin, she displayed a small jacket to him. Not seeing anything to get excited about, he quirked an eyebrow.

"What about it?" he finally asked, realizing that a response was expected from him.

"Oh common, Dean! Don't you see…it's a _brown leather jacket." _

"_So?" _he mouthed to her.

She rolled her eyes. "It's like yours!" She finally explained in exasperation as if it was obvious.

"Oh. Yeah."

"Uh huh," she said with a bright smile on her face as she added it to the cart.

"So now we match? Is that it?" he grimaced as he thought about it. _That's so gay! _

"Neat, huh? Well, I'm done," she added brightly.

"Thank goodness…let's get the hell outta here," he muttered as he deftly maneuvered the squeaking cart to the first available cash register.

Five minutes later they were in the car, and Dean was just settling inside when Jennifer suddenly started pulling at her shirt—that is, the one Dean had lent her and that she was still wearing. Quickly scanning around the empty parking lot, she grabbed one of the plastic bags and pulled out a cute teal shirt and some wrinkled jeans, as Dean leaned back looking at her intently with sudden interest.

"So…you changing here?"

"You bet I am…I can't wait to put on some real clothes."

"Fine by me," he smirked as his gaze roamed all over her.

"Dean!" she hissed, "Close your eyes!"

"What?"

"I am so not changing here with you gaping at me, and that's final," she replied evenly, as the color mounted on her cheeks.

Seeing her blush, Dean smirked. "You know, you look awful cute when you get mad."

"_Dean_!"

"Just kidding!" he said as her tiny fist reached over to clobber him, while he obediently closed his eyes shut and held out both hands in defeat. Hearing her wiggle around in the seat as she changed, he popped an eye open slightly to get a peek.

"Ouch! Hey!" he complained when she smacked him hard on the back of the head. Both eyes popped open and he rubbed the back of his head.

"I told you to close your eyes you big lummox." Jennifer looked slightly irritated as she held a shirt over her chest protectively. She had already taken off Dean's shirt leaving her shapely shoulders exposed, and Dean could see her chest heaving in embarrassment.

She squealed when Dean leaned onto her suddenly, grabbing on to the back of her head with his right hand as he planted a kiss on her lips. He pulled back momentarily, and gave her the Winchester trademark grin.

"Get off me, Dean!" she said as she tried to slap his arm away and still hold on to the shirt that was covering her chest.

"Aw Baby…don't you know I'm widely attracted to frisky women?"

"Mr. Winchester, you have a dirty mind."

"But I have a pure heart."

He cocked his head arrogantly and dove into her side of the car with lighting speed, falling on top of her as she shrieked and her left hand clutched tighter at the shirt. He supported himself with one arm using the other one to pin her free hand over her head, and pulled his lips over hers, muffling her cries. She struggled at first, before slowly melting into the kiss. Just as she was responding, Dean pulled back and looked at her wickedly.

"Hey!" she complained as she struggled to get back her breath and still her heaving chest.

"Ooh…miss me?" He grinned foolishly and let go of her wrist so as to entwine his fingers with hers before he resumed the kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jennifer's hand unconsciously slipped away from the shirt, and she reached for the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. When they both pulled away from each other to catch their breath, the shirt slipped off her, causing her to shriek again in genuine embarrassment.

"Oops," said Dean.

Jennifer shoved him away and reached for the shirt frantically as Dean laughed at her confusion. He cut it short, however, when he caught her expression. If looks could kill, Dean would have been dust at that moment. Sensing he was treading on mighty thin ice, he got off her completely and closed his eyes for forms sake, seeing as he had already seen all there was to see.

"I'm done," she huffed a minute later.

Dean opened his eyes tentatively to see her fully dressed, and coughed apologetically. "Uh…sorry about that."

"The hell you are."

"Common, it wasn't on purpose," he wheedled. He reached over to turn on the engine and backed out off the parking lot. They drove on for a few minutes in deadly silence, till Dean tried again. "Hey, you know you were fully enjoying yourself."

"I told you I didn't want you to see me, and you didn't respect that."

"Aren't you making too much out of it? I told you it wasn't on purpose." He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and added none too brightly. "Besides, I didn't notice you complaining too much when you pulled me closer."

Jennifer's head whipped around at that comment and she glared daggers at him. "Just because I like being near you and feeling you close to me doesn't mean I'm a slut. You want to make out and have sex in a car, go find yourself another girl."

Dean looked at her in amazement, wondering what had got into her. One minute she was melting into his arms, and the next she was making a big deal out of nothing. He swerved out of the road, and parked by the side of the highway. "What's wrong with you anyway?" he asked in sheer bewilderment.

Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest and shook her hair into her face. Dean huffed and rolled his eyes in defeat. _Women…you can't live with 'em and you can't live without 'em. _

"Hey." He reached out and moved the hair out of her face with one hand, to get a better view of her face. "Let's not fight about this…it's not worth fighting over."

"I know. I'm sorry…I didn't mean to get all bitchy."

"Mind telling me what that was about anyway?"

Jennifer looked ahead and replied without emotion. "I don't really know…it's…it's kinda hard to explain." She shrugged. "You wouldn't understand anyway."

"Try me." He crossed his arms and shifted in his seat, to see her better as he focused on her.

"I…well…I just get this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach when I'm around you sometimes."

"Wow, thanks. My self esteem just went up."

Jennifer laughed and let her arms slip to her lap, as the tension melted out her slowly. "I didn't mean it that way, Dean…it's just…well, I feel all warm and fuzzy inside when you pull me closer to you, but at the same time, it scares me. It scares me to see the effect you have on me." She paused for a quick intake of breath and turned around slightly to check his reaction. Dean's face was an unreadable mask however. She sighed, and continued. "Dean, it scares me to see how vulnerable I am when I'm with you. It's like you can make me do anything you want me to do. It scares the crap out of me-"

"Whoa…ok…" Dean interrupted, thinking he was getting her drift. He paused, as he weighed the matter down, trying to figure out what to say to her. _I hate this. I'm no good at this wishy washy feeling crap. _Realizing how important this was to her, however, he decided to suck it up and try just the same. He rolled the seat in his car as far back as it would go, then patted his lap significantly, making Jennifer raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"House rule, Jenny…my girl sits on my lap when I'm listening to her. Hop on."

Jenny giggled, as she climbed over to his side of the car and awkwardly sat on his lap, her legs extending all the way over to her seat.

"House rule number two…you ever tell my dad or brother about this, and you'll live to regret it," Dean threatened.

"My lips are sealed," Jenny promised solemnly.

Dean pulled her to him, and Jenny snuggled contentedly against his chest, taking in the familiar smell of his old leather jacket.

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Dean and Jennifer were back on the road, talking over the new case Dean was planning to look into. A series of bizarre murders had been going on in Colorado, and so far all of the victims had been middle aged men. The news item Dean had found claimed they had all died in the same fashion—cracked skulls. Jenny was more than curious, wanting to see with her own eyes how Dean worked at his "job".

"So what's the first step?"

"We do some research. Check out the area, talk to people who knew the victims, and do some background on their lives."

"Sounds like what a cop would do."

"Baby, no cop does what we do."

Jenny nodded in agreement. "Then what?"

"Once we get a definite lead, we check it out."

"Cool…can I help?"

"You freakin' kidding me? Seriously? You a got a lot to learn before you can even think about going with me on one of my hunts."

"I can learn," she retorted sulkily.

"Yeah, well…you will…trust me…but not till you learn the basics about fending off spirits and demons first."

"Spirits?" she asked curiously.

"Yep…welcome to the wonderful world of supernatural."

* * *

**_This is the last chapter in this story, seeing as how the case of "Man or Spirit?"_** _**was really wrapped up a while ago and we know that Dean and Jenny are now together...for now...lol**_

_**I really want to do a sequel, and have several ideas with Dean and Jenny and eventually Sammy (luv that kid!), but I would like to know what you think about it. :)**_


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